Andrei stared at me with small, fiery eyes. Eventually he said, ‘She was asking for all those who had helped with previous campaigns. Not just protesters but hackers who have helped us. To capture activism in the twenty-first century, she said. She wanted to know who was local, wanted their contact details. We gave her access to the connections we have.’ He said that through gritted teeth.

‘Do you have any idea who she spoke to?’

‘No. We showed her a list. Now it has gone. Someone wiped it from our system.’

‘After you showed her?’

‘After she disappeared. Who is she? Who does she share information with?’

I was beginning to understand his mistrust, and why it had turned on me.

‘She is one of our best campaigners,’ I said.

‘When did you last work with Reporters for Human Rights?’

‘I’m working with them now.’

‘With Anthony Lewis?’

‘Yes. But I’m not here to be interrogated again.’

Andrei’s phone rang. He stepped back towards the living room, still staring at me, then turned, taking the call.

‘I’m sorry,’ Yussopova said. ‘Obviously the situation is very tense.’

‘Of course. I’d be the same. Do you know anything about this list she saw?’

‘Just that Andrei believes she approached someone and it created problems.’

‘You’ve no idea who?’

‘No.’

‘What did they ask about Vanessa today, when you were questioned?’

‘They asked what languages she spoke, how long she’d been working for Reporters for Human Rights, what countries I knew she’d been in. They were also suspicious of her. So, you see … ’

Yussopova trailed off. She was still in shock. She ran a glass of water and in the light from the kitchen window I saw her injured arm more clearly. They were burns; cigar burns. I lifted her coat off the back of the chair and smelled it.

‘Who questioned you?’

‘A Russian. I don’t know who.’

‘Could you describe him for me?’

‘Smart, clean-shaven. He had grey hair, parted.’

‘Glasses?’

‘Yes.’

‘Tall?’

‘Certainly not small.’

‘What else do you remember about him?’

‘His nails were neat, like a doctor’s, a surgeon’s.’

‘Did he do this?’ I gestured at her burns.

‘What do you think?’

The intercom buzzed. Everyone fell quiet.

‘It’s Irina,’ someone said. A woman entered a moment later, indistinct beneath layers of clothing but visibly pale, with bright, scared eyes.

‘Timur and Natalya have been arrested. We should not be here. This place may be bugged. They know about our plans.’

‘Bugged or penetrated,’ Andrei said.

‘You should go,’ Yussopova said. She meant: before the crowd turned against me. ‘This is not your problem. It is not safe for you here, John. Leave Kazakhstan as quickly as possible. In England, tell people what is going on. We will try to find out what happened to Vanessa.’